The Great Collapsing Roof Incident
by solo23
Summary: What if Hagrid had been five minutes later to pick up Harry from the Dursleys when he was 11? And what if the roof of the hut had been a little less secure...? oneshot, warning: character death


**Harry Potter and the Great Collapsing Roof Incident**

**written by: Solo23**

**Summary: What if Hagrid had been five minutes later to pick up Harry from the Dursleys when he was 11? And what if the roof of the hut had been a bit less secure...? oneshot**

**Warning: Character Death**

**Disclaimer: Why yes, I own Harry Potter, haven't you heard? Thats why I'm writing fanfiction...hehehe, I don't actually own Harry Potter...dang it. **

**AN: This story is something completely random and not meant to be taken seriously...it was fun to write, so I hope its fun to read :)**

**Pg. 45 _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone _by J.K. Rowling **

_The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now._

_Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow._

_Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?_

_One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds…twenty…ten…ten…nine- maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him- three…two…one…_

_BOOM._

Apparently this wasn't meant to be Harry's lucky year, because at the moment he turned eleven, that which he hoped would not happen, happened. The supports holding up the roof cracked and collapsed, sending the roof plunging down in pieces upon the unfortunate people in the cabin. Harry's eyes widened as he saw the roof coming closer, but what could he do? Covering his head to the best of his ability, curled in a ball, Harry waited for the impact. 

Harry's bad luck continued as a rather sharp, broken chunk of wood that had formerly been a roof support impaled him through the chest, completely collapsing one of his lungs. Gasping in pain, Harry found himself unable to breathe. He also felt something dripping down his chin…and it wasn't the rain that was now able to enter the collapsed cabin. After slowly wiping his chin with his left hand, Harry glanced at said hand and noticed the red liquid on it.

'Great,' Harry thought sadly (and a bit morbidly), 'I'm going to die. And I was wrong…the roof collapsing did absolutely nothing to help me stay warm. In fact, I think I'm colder now…so very cold…'

And Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was killed by a ceiling. The Dursleys had been fortunate (or unfortunate, considering what happened shortly after) enough to survive the roof's collapse, with a combination of the mattress and Vernon's bulky structure saving the adults, while Dudley was protected by his impenetrable layers of blubber. Without the roof holding the walls together, the entire cabin collapsed, leaving the Dursleys and their nephew's body exposed to the storm. As well as gave them an unobstructed view of the entire island being devoured by the raging sea little by little.

It seems Harry had been right about everything…the roof collapsing…the sea slapping hard on the rock…the rock crumbling into the sea from the force of the waves…but he was wrong about the collapsed ceiling making him warmer. It was a shame, for that had been the only positive thought he'd had about the strange noises.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the plight of the Dursleys plus one, and running behind as usual, a certain half giant was approaching the disintegrating island at a rapid pace. Arriving approximately five minutes after the Great Collapsing Roof Incident, the newest occupant of the island could only stare in shock at the ruins before him. After spending the appropriate 53.4 seconds of staring blankly in shock, Hagrid shook his head, as though trying to clear cobwebs from it, and rushed toward the four bodies scattered within. Well, technically he rushed toward the **three** bodies he saw scattered within, for the fourth had been so completely covered in debris that he was not visible.

The first body he arrived at was around the appropriate age of the boy he was looking for, but was far too fat and blonde to be the son of Lily and James Potter. He also happened to be snoring away, despite being covered in roof pieces and completely soaked from the raging storm. Even if Harry had survived, it seems unlikely that he would have been able to carry out his plan of annoying Dudley by waking him up…the whale had actually managed to sleep through a roof, and entire cabin, collapsing, the island he was sleeping on reducing to one fourth its original size, and the storm of the century raging right above him. The pig in a blonde wig could sleep through anything.

Satisfied that the porker was not, in fact, Harry Potter, Hagrid moved on to the next set of bodies he saw. To his dismay, they were both conscious and both far too old to be the one he was after. Frustrated and a bit angry, Hagrid growled, "I'm lookin' fer Harry Potter. Where is he, Dursley?"

"GET OUT!" Vernon screamed, his face taking on an unhealthy shade of magenta. Now, normally the very normal, egotistical, reputation-oriented Vernon Dursley wouldn't dream of yelling at a stranger who could, possibly, help him out of a situation. Rather, he would show up the person in his classiness and proceed to make them feel as if they owed it to him to help him, getting Vernon out of a sticky situation while avoiding the nasty entanglements of debt. By this time, however, Vernon's already frayed nerves had been completely fried by his close encounter with death, as well as the madness that had driven him since the bloody letters had started coming. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with an abnormally large, wild-looking man who had connections with his freaky nephew and his freaky nephew's freaky world.

In a voice that would have made Voldemort pee his pants, Hagrid growled, "Don' mess with me, Dursley, you great prune! Where is he?!"

"Over there, by the couch," Petunia squeaked, putting a hand a Vernon's arm, trying to soothe him and keep the violet-faced man from attacking the giant. Or from having a stroke brought on by severe stress and years of obesity.

Hagrid went back toward the couch (about three steps away) and, after seeing only the giant lump that was Dudley, began knocking bits of broken roof toward the edges of what had been a hut. He rather resembled a very large, shaggy dog digging for a bone. Mere moments after he began digging, Hagrid found what he was searching for. Yes, there it was, a lovely knut that fell out of his pocket…right next to the body of Harry Potter.

Seeing the obviously dead body of the supposedly unkillable boy, Hagrid understandably surpassed the appropriate 53.4 seconds of staring blankly in shock, opting to go for a whole 3.45 minutes. After the long staring session, Hagrid began bawling, picked up Harry's body (which flopped around a bit like a fish…a dead fish, that is), and somehow Apparated back to Hogwarts. This was a miraculous feat in three ways, firstly because Hagrid managed to Apparate at all (he never learned how, being expelled and all in his third year), secondly because he managed to not leave any parts behind while transporting himself and Harry for the first time ever while also being distraught, and thirdly because, as Hermione always says, it is impossible to Apparate into Hogwarts. Well, almost impossible, as Hagrid proved that fateful day.

The entire wizarding world was devastated. Even the Death Eaters and Moldy Shorts…err, that is, Voldemort. The Light (and usually more cheerful and optimistic) Side almost completely fell apart, and everyone was very depressed that their savior had been killed by a roof of all things. The Dark Side was depressed and angry because the emperor and Vader both were dead…wait, wrong Dark Side…Moldy Shorts and the Death Munchers were upset because the cause of their downfall (well, really only Moldy Shorts' downfall, everyone else was just too chicken to carry on) was killed by something so unspectacular.

Sirius and Remus both fell into deep depressions (though neither knew what the other was feeling, for they were separated by the paradise island of Azkaban) because they believed that they failed their friend when Harry died.

Harry was a bit angry and a lot dead. He died, he was sure of it, and instead of going on to the afterlife, he was stuck arguing with the afterlife bouncer, who insisted that Harry would not be allowed in for another twelve years. Angrily, the deceased boy asked what he was supposed to do until his time really came, considering his spirit had already left his body and he had no interest in becoming a ghost. The solution was…to return to Earth for his twelve years that he had left and fulfill his purpose, or suffer an eternity down under. And in this case, "down under" does not refer to the beautiful Australia. Thus, Harry became disembodied voice, following random people and playing pranks, for he had nothing better to do…for twelve years. No one told him what his purpose was, after all.

Fortunately for Harry, he found his purpose and fulfilled it, albeit unintentionally. Just a week after Harry's demise, and forever afterward, Moldy Shorts could be heard muttering about disembodied, annoying, psychotic, bratty voices following him…always following him…causing all his cronies to abandon him, saying a half dead state left him insane and unfit to be a leader. What a laugh…a guy is insane when he mutters about voices, but not when he wants to kill three fourths of the world? Ah, what a nutty place the world is…

And so, the wizarding world basically fell apart, with neither the Light nor Dark sides fit to lead it. Hogwarts continued, though it was a much more subdued place than before. Ron and Hermione never became friends, Fred and George resigned themselves to a lifetime of working in an office at the Ministry, Percy never left the family, no adventures ever happened at Hogwarts (or beyond, really), Ginny never found her one true love (turns out it really was supposed to be Harry…too bad he was dead), and the Dursleys all died when the island finished crumbling into the sea.

Funny, isn't it, how much one person can affect the world?

**THE END**

**AN: Review...or don't review, the choice is yours. Maybe I'll continue the story if people actually like it and want me to...**


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